To shun the syren's joint attacks,
Ulysses, ocean ranger,
Sealed his companion's ears with wax,
And thus escaped the danger.
Bound to the mast, himself, in vain,
He strove to hear their chorus:
The deafened sailors ploughed the main,
And rounded Cape Pelorus.

Had you sung there, to win the prize
By all the Muses cherish'd,
(Had he not bound his sailors' eyes,)
The subtle Greek had perish'd.
That face—that voice—all tastes must suit,
O'er all enchantment flinging:
You fascinate our eyes when mute,
And charm our ears when singing.